Back from Hiatus

So, eh, it's been a long time. If my artistic expression weren't above it, I would now insert one of those anime-looking smilie faces with a nervous sweat drop coming off its face. Anyway, I apologize for being gone so long. I've been undergoing a whole bunch of life-altering changes. The ironic part about life-altering changes is that they make great material to write about, but when you are actually going through them, it's very difficult to do so. A synopsis of what has happened since I last blogged (August 1):


The Wedding
I got married. I suppose this is obvious, but I thought I'd include a few obligatory wedding pictures, all courtesy of Marisa's facebook since I don't have the candids from my parents with me and the photographer ones are all watermarked. George and I coming out of the temple. I love my dress (from Bridal Image, my aunt and grandma's bridal store in Bountiful).

My baby brother Josh (8) carrying my veil--the veil's my mom's.

Obligatory reflecting pool pictures. Note the awesome gloves and George's brown tux.

Me smearing George's face with some frosting after my cousin Barb specifically told us not to. :D This is at the reception in our backyard.

And yes, married life is great. But I see no point in writing about it since the single people will just be annoyed and hopefully the married ones already know.

And now I know I definitely disagree with Ben.


No More Double Major
I come back from my honeymoon one week late to the new fall semester at BYU and discover that physical chemistry is not really a chemistry class--it's a physics class in disguise! I passed the math class on which it is based with a C+ last fall. I hate physics with a passion because it's one of the few subjects that I have to work at. I proceed to stress out and have various mental breakdowns about my adequacy. George holds up admirably. I decide to quit the chemistry major and declare a minor instead. I am now trying to pick up the shattered pieces of my identity. Don't worry, I'll get over being a normal single-major-with-minor person like the rest of you. It'll just take time.


BYUAML Presidency
I'm now the president of the student chapter of the Association for Mormon Letters. I've started a BYUAML blog (of course) and a Google calendar to keep track of activities. I really enjoyed my first AML board meeting, and I'm flippin' excited about the Writing Conference on November 10th. Yay! I'm really interested in all the activities we've got going on, so I think it's going to be fun.


Miscellaneous Other

• Working on my Honors thesis project, a collection of 4-5 personal essays on various aspects of being a Mormon woman.
• Taking the LDS lit class and trying to narrow down the subject for my research paper. I'd like to write all twenty of them, but I think one will have to suffice.
  
• Trying to find time to work on more Hugh Nibley stuff. I've been on a hiatus from working for Jack Welch and he probably wonders where I am.
• Learning not to agree to do every project that comes along just because it would be so much fun. I have to have time to see my husband too.

So, I really will try to blog something real tomorrow, and it has to do with either 1 Cor 14 or D&C 93. Or maybe I'll actually post on Blogger of Jared, since I've been a guest blogger since April and written exactly nothing.

Knowing the Bridegroom

And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came; and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut. Afterward came also the other virgins, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us. But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not. (Matt 25:10-12)

So it's been awhile since I've written a more serious entry, for reasons which should be obvious. But since my mind insists on formatting every thought I have into a blog entry, I guess I better recommit myself to the blogosphere.

One thing that I realized on my study abroad trip was the metaphors in the scriptures are anything but accidental. For one of our devotionals in England, I wrote a talk on why the scriptures refer to Christ as the light of the world. The implications of that metaphor are astounding to me. (I plan on revising that talk over the next few days to post on Blogger of Jared. Keep an eye out for it.) But the metaphor that's been snagging my mind lately is Christ as the bridegroom and ourselves as the bride, again for obvious reasons.

The lesson in Relief Society this week was "Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods before Me" from the Spencer W. Kimball manual. Our discussion veered off on the interesting tangent of how we can grow to love God more. As we listed all the typical answers, it struck me how apt it is to compare our relationship with Christ or God to a marriage. It seems from my limited experience that there are two ways we spend time with a spouse. The first is the process of life--buying groceries, looking over the weekly calendar, picking each other up from work, running errands, getting stuff done. The second is the specially set-aside time, time we make away from the work-a-day mill to spend with each other, the weekly dates the Church so frequently councils us toward. One isn't better than the other; both are necessary for a healthy relationship.

How well these two elements apply to our relationship with God! God is to be part of our everyday actions. We must be listening to spiritual promptings and doing the 'errands' of our spiritual lives--our scripture reading, our prayers--in His presence. Yet equally important is setting aside weekly time to meet with God, to commune together without an agenda of getting things done, just listening and talking and repairing our relationship.

How many of us can say we set aside time for a weekly 'date' with God, though? In my life at least, there's often much emphasis on relying on Him in my daily actions--the Spirit is my support through the day--and not enough of simply getting to know Him better. Much of my time with God seems about incidental convenience. Blogging time double-counts as pondering time. Writing in my journal is following the prophets as well as creating material for my honors thesis project. I can learn all sorts of spiritual things while also getting paid to work on the footnotes for the next volume of the Collected Works of Hugh Nibley. (Now they pay me to be obsessed with him. Yay!)

I'm not saying such double-counting is bad. God's presence should permeate our lives like light. But it gets to be a problem when I have a hard time thinking of that last time I did something to commune with God without the ulterior motivation of being productive elsewhere. That kind of relationship is exhausting. When George and I went through a few days doing nothing but working and planning wedding stuff, my ability to give and feel love was severely impaired. Without downtime in any relationship, you simply forget why you are doing things. And lack of downtime in my relationship with God leads me to forget why I push through the 'errands' of spirituality.

Another question is this: what do you do with one-on-one time with God? Unfortunately, I can't take God down to the Malt Shoppe for two-for-one Mondays. For me, the answer to alone time with God is prayer. At FHE, we discussed Elder Scott's conference talk on prayer, and this phrase from the "How Should You Pray?" section stuck out to me:

Don’t worry about your clumsily expressed feelings. Just talk to your compassionate, understanding Father. You are His precious child whom He loves perfectly and wants to help. As you pray, recognize that Father in Heaven is near and He is listening.

That description of open communication, without worry about clumsy phrases or entertaining the listener, is exactly the type of communication that ought to exist between spouses. That willingness to say whatever comes to mind, to talk about anything, everything, nothing, is exactly the way I feel when I talk with George. Prayer ought to be the kind of talk that comes of lying in a hammock with someone you love, staring at sky through the tangled leaves, where all life suddenly comes open, and in that instant you can fix problems that have taken years to form, or doing anything really. It's so vast yet personal--overwhelming to me.

Gender Unity: A Nibleyesque Musing

So, I'll get around to an obligatory conference post eventually today, but I'm restraining myself from writing anything fun until I do the Nibleyesque Musing that was due last week. Unfortunately, the only way I can motivate myself to do it is by posting it on the blog, so you'll just have to bear with me. Hey, it's on gender roles instead of obscure doctrine, so that should be fun.

“Patriarchy and Matriarchy” was an interesting approach to the question of gender equality in the gospel. I’m not sure I agreed exactly with Nibley’s characterization of Adam and Eve. He seems to switch back and forth on who he “blames” for the Fall (assuming it’s something to blame for). He attempts to make Eve a conscientious actor (“It is she who perceives and points out to Adam that they have done the right thing after all.”), a deceptive trickster (“But Eve, who in ancient lore is the one who outwits the serpent and trips him up with his own smartness, defeated this trick by a clever argument.”), and finally an innocent victim (“The first daring step had to be taken, and if in her enthusiasm she let herself be tricked by the persuasive talk of a kindly "brother," it was no fault of hers.”). It seems that Nibley wants to have it all ways at once, to blame Satan, Adam, and Eve each for the fall in successive turns. After all, I suppose all are to “blame,” but I don’t think Nibley does a good job of pulling all three problems together into a coherent vision. Instead, his description of the Fall seems to remain fragmented and confused.

However, I do like Nibley’s final conclusion about apparent gender issues in the gospel. The problem with the Fall, he says, is not that it was a wrong choice. It was that the choice was made by Eve alone, rather than in conjunction with Adam and especially without consultation with God. He goes on to conjecture that the real problem with the matriarchy/patriarchy issue is that it shouldn’t be an issue. We shouldn’t be choosing one or the other, but both and neither. The problem is that we set it up as an issue at all, that our society is so concerned about who should be first. As Nibley explains, “the suffix archy means always to be first in order, whether in time or eminence; the point is that there can only be one first.” The problem is that we insist on trying to find out which gender is superior or better, or trying to find the exact nature of either gender, under the false assumption that one can really exist without the other.

Nibley’s explication of the loss of gender identities in Macbeth clicked an image in my mind of gender identity and struggle as a sort-of circle. At the bottom of the circle, we have those societies who, like Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, have lost their gender identity in a quest for power and authority. Here is the raw power sought by either pure patriarchy or matriarchy, complete chaos and domination by one set of principles or the other. Moving up to the middle of the circle, we have a society of opposites: extremely different and polarized gender roles, where we have given up some of our desire for power in order to achieve a more balanced society. Some would think this is the society the Church advocates, with men in the workplace and women in the home, each minding their separate spheres. But what the gospel really calls for is at the top of the circle, where gender becomes both extremely essential and also totally unimportant. As we move to the top of the circle, we move from a society desiring power to a society desiring progress—eternal progression. We give up our desire for absolute agency (being able to make all the choices ourselves) for the greater gift of unified action. Gender at this level becomes infinitely important, because society must be run by a man and woman working and deciding together, but also irrelevant, because of the perfect unity achieved. The two have become so one that both can do everything, and yet nothing, without the other.

(Long time readers may catch the definite allusion to one of my favorite posts on this blog, The Circle: A Theory of Knowledge. Like I say, everything relates to it!)

Some Rules

So reading two romance novels (P&P and Unlikely Romance) in a short period of time is bad for my psyche, but it has made me think more about the nature of love. And you know what I've decided? I don't believe in love at first sight.

Oh yes, terribly unromantic of me and all that, but you all knew that anyway. But seriously, I'll acknowledge that love at first sight may work for some people, but I think I'm just too logical for it. There are very few people I would judge as being completely unsuited to me at first meeting, and even fewer (read: none) who I would know were completely suited. People are way more complicated than that. I'm convinced love is not about what you bring in, but what you build together. Interaction and conversation are infinitely more telling than first appearances and impressions.

Which leads to the main point of this post. For some reason, I feel compelled to share my newly minted dating philosophy with you. What can I say: I'm a science person. I crave organization and lists! (Obviously, it's from a female perspective, but I think the inverse applications are pretty clear.)

1 (which is paramount) - If there's any physical involvement, you've clearly reached the decision point. Handholding is borderline, but anything beyond that means you should definitely be exclusive. Don't allow physical intimacy unless you're okay with being off the market (potentially for a long time).

2 - Until such point as a relationship is defined or #1 occurs, don't worry too much about going out with other guys. It's understood that you can do that. Don't put yourself on hold when you aren't actually on hold. Plus going on dates, by some bizarre principle of physics, seems to attract more dates.

3 - Unrequited love is pointless. If X is taking action and you feel there's potential, don't avoid going out with him just because you are crushing on Y. Relationships are two people things. If Y doesn't take some action, it's just not going to work. The weakest actual relationship beats the strongest UL anyday. (Plus, see #2. Jealousy is powerful motivation for hesitant males.) Don't allow some UL to prevent a relationship from growing.

4 - That said, avoid purposely creating jealousy or playing guys off of each other. That will only earn you a bad reputation and cause a sudden inversion of #2.

5 - The "Mini-Crush" philosophy (courtesy of Val): It's better to spread your affections out over multiple guys while you aren't in a relationship. It keeps you from obsessing over one guy too much and building unrealistic expectations. And, if one doesn't work out, it won't send you into a 2 month depression, cause you have back-up. :D

Oh, and--

6 - Follow your heart.

Yeah, that could be relevant. Maybe.

Okay, it feels really strange for me to write a dating philosophy. I think I need to go do some ritual cleansing or something.

Writing Tears

I’ve mentioned before that I’m horrible at journal writing, and this weekend was the perfect example: today I finally wrote in my journal about when Nick broke up with me. This happened in November, people.

Okay, so that was only partially due to my slacker journal keeping abilities. Partially, of course, it was a move to avoid making it reality. If you don’t write something down, you can still change your point of view later, and no one ever has to know it was any different. (Ah! the appeal, the illusion of consistency!) But once it’s written in your journal, it might as well be carved in stone: it happened. You thought it, and you can’t change it. Oh, you can change your mind, yes, but you will still know that at one point you did think that. You’ve committed who you were at that point to the page, preserved it forever in amber, a monument to your naiveté, your stupidity, your inexperience.

Which is why I hesitate to write about potential romantic involvements—boys, crushes, dates—in my journal, even though they would be arguably the most important thing to write about. Sure, if they turn out to be The One (somehow, you can tell that should have capital letters), then it would be nice to have all of the play-by-play recorded somewhere so that you can whip it out for the grandchildren 40 years down the road. But things don’t work out, what do you have left? Sure, theoretically we should live without regrets and be able to reminisce about past loves without being disheartened. *snort* Yeah, that’s likely. It mostly ends up feeling painful, or pointless, depending on which side you were on, and you’d just rather forget it all.

I look back at my last journal, the first one I ever filled up completely. One particular boy—who never noticed me and probably will never notice me and who probably wouldn’t have worked out if he did—has about, oh, 30 pages all to himself. 30! And nothing even happened! (Nick has 17.) And these are not small pages. What am I supposed to do with them now? I flip past them on the way to the next blank page and they just make me feel sad. For a second, I feel the hope, and then I remember that it came crashing down in the end. The whole emotional rollercoaster compressed into the instant I pick up my journal. Who needs that kind of emotional stress?

Another thing I’ve noticed while catching up the journal: I don’t cry over boys, or people in general. I haven’t ever cried over Nick, nor that other hopeless boy, nor any other that I recall. Yet those of you who know me know that I am easily moved to tears. I’ve cried in almost every English class I’ve ever taken—wait, scratch the almost, because I can't think of any exceptions. I cry in church; I cry when I feel inspired; I cry in presentations; I cry in interviews; I cry when I write anything; I cry when I debate; I cry when I talk about books, for goodness’ sake. Tears have become my truth detectors. They’re how I know something is real. If I don't cry at least once a day, I'm probably not even awake. I’m addicted to tears, and yet I can’t seem to shed a single one over something I'm actually supposed to cry over.

I can think of two possible explanations for this. First, perhaps I was never really that emotionally attached to these situations. Maybe I was just going through the motions I saw in chick flicks. More and more I think there’s something to the argument that they are unhealthy for women to watch.

Or maybe I really am incapable of connecting with people on the same level as I connect to ideas. My tears seem to have become inextricably tied up with my quest for knowledge even as they have receded from my connections to people. Perhaps I have fallen in love with ideas to the point where people cannot possibly captivate me on the same level.

Maybe this is a problem.

Conclusion

The new Megatokyo comic makes a good conclusion to the last post, so here it is. :D Yea for emotional honesty . . . and learning about relationships through comic books.

Ah, the sad but the true.

And Facebook now has a browser toolbar. I have a bad feeling about this.

Essence of Romance

One of the reasons I've always felt under-qualified to write fiction is my lack of experience in the most essential points of life. My life has been primarily academic: I eat, sleep, and breathe knowledge, school, and the like. There's not a whole lot of plot you can draw from that. As interesting as a novel full of intellectuals would be (I did think about writing one once), what a book really needs is life, life in all its myriad forms. There must be variation in experience and character.

All right, let me stop dancing around the issue: I never felt comfortable writing about love. There, I said it. I've never been the sort of person who was big about finding someone to crush on or flirt with. That's just never been part of my style. Other than a few dark periods, one of which revived this blog, I was okay with being that way. Romance wasn't something I felt a strong need for.

Frankly, I just didn't understand it at all. Love didn't seem all that desirable. I figured sometime it would just happen and then I would understand it, but I was in no rush to get to such a position. For some reason I had this idea in my head that having some sort of romantic experience would suddenly illuminate my understanding. The principle of experience seems to hold for everything else--it's difficult to understand everyday activities like sports or cooking unless you have practical experience. The same with academics--experience reading literary criticism yields better ability to understand further literary criticism.

How wrong I was.

Looking from this end of things, love still isn't very desireable, and that worries me a bit. I'd say romantic love is another one of those spherical chickens I so adore: quite easy and obvious to deal with if you gloss over the reality of it, but in any particular application, impossible to predict or explain. The best side to understand love from is the outside. Once you embroil yourself in it, extrication and even feigned objectivity are impossible. It's so ridiculously painful and impossible: any logical person would throw it away, like Plato says in the Phaedrus. And yet, we keep sticking around for it, writing songs about it, making millions off the royalties.

And I must disagree with Oscar Wilde: the very essence of romance is certainty, certainty that something can go on forever, despite all evidence that it doesn't. Or maybe Oscar Wilde was right, and the uncertainty inherent in romance is why I reject it. What I want is not any sort of thrill; I want the sort of romance you only see in couples who have been married for 40 years. A quiet knowledge, a day-to-day dependability, a soft completeness. Can't I just skip over the first bit?

Update: Ooh! Multimedia extension of my thoughts: the three most recent Megatokyo comics.

Scientific Romance

Last night I was watching Nova again, particularly Einstein's Big Idea. (Yes, I'm a nerd, get over that. It's faster than reading the book it was based on.) Can I just say this is about the most adorable scientific documentary I have ever seen? And I really do mean it. The program covers the lives of all the scientists whose discoveries contributed to the formation of E=MC^2. The science was mostly stuff I knew anyway, but the lives of the scientists utterly fascinate me.

And here's where we come to the title of the post, as I particularly liked the portrayal of the romantic lives of these scientists. Yes, it's probably mostly made up, but it was so adorable! Antoine Lavoisier working side-by-side with his wife, the downfall of Emilie du Châtelet--a French physicist--who died in childbirth, and Lise Meitner's tragic near-relationship with her co-worker Otto Hahn, who would eventually steal her Nobel Prize. Of course, the best was Einstein's courtship of his wife. I mean, who couldn't find this romantic:

ALBERT EINSTEIN: What would I see if I rode on a beam of light?

MILEVA MARIC: What? A beam of light? By what method do you propose to ride on this beam of light?

ALBERT EINSTEIN: The method is not important. Let us just imagine we two are young, radical, bohemian experimenters, hand in hand, on a journey to the outer reaches of the universe, and we are riding on the front of a wave of light.

MILEVA MARIC: I really don't know what you are suggesting, Herr Einstein. Do you wish to hold my hand or ridicule me?

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Ridicule you? No, never. I merely want you to help me to understand. What would we see, do you think, if we were together, and we sped up and up until we caught up to the front of a beam of light? What would we see?

Uh, okay, maybe you just have to see it. But I think it's adorable. This may be because I also think Einstein is adorable. But maybe that's just because I love IQ. But who doesn't?

Which brings me to the real point of this post. As I said earlier, I've recently discovered an affinity for chick flicks. But not just any chick flicks. I like chick flicks about nerds. My most recent favorite mushy crap is the story about Ender's parents meeting from Orson Scott Card's First Meetings. Any guy who would do what John Paul Wiggin does is pretty amazing. He'd certainly have my attention. :D

A Week+ without Blog Posts

Um, yeah, sorry about that. I've been sick, dazed, swamped with homework, shopping in Park City, etc. So, here's some stuff that should have been posted, but wasn't.

Forum Notes (10/10/06)
Wow! That forum was completely amazing. If you didn't watch it, you should be greatly ashamed. And then you should go watch it.

I really liked his idea of the "mobilization of moderation." I can't remember where I heard this statistic--perhaps in a US government class--but most people in the US will self-identify as moderate, and yet when time comes to do something about it, we go for the extremes. I think this problem comes from a lack of trust for "the other side." In theory, we know that most of us think in the middle, but just to be save, better to stay as far away from their side as possible. We really need to mobilize a moderate middle that's really willing to compromise and work together.

I also felt very validated that he mentioned an idea I blogged about for the last forum--that what we mistake for tolerance in our society is really apathy. The real path to tolerance is not through losing any standard of correct behavior. Rather the opposite: we must hold to a standard as firm as any. The real key to tolerance is charity, Christ-like love, in which we can care about and love everyone in such a way that we are always seeking the best for them. We view no one as our enemy, only as misguided friends.

And next week (24th) is also a forum. Interesting. I thought they only had forums once a month. Oh well. I like forums way better than devotionals anyway. Devotionals = Sunday school. Forums = clever discussion of scholarly topics that can apply to the gospel.

Divine Comedy Show (10/13/06)
I am a huge advocate of Divine Comedy. I think what they do is good for the BYU student body. At a university where everything we do is viewed with eternal perspective, we sometimes get too serious about things that don't particularly matter. We mistake our culture for our doctrine.

Humor is definitely a power tool for social commentary (see Robert Kirby, SLTrib columnist). And Divine Comedy does it well. There were quite a few skits employing the stereotypes of liberal and conservative Mormons, which I thought were hysterical. The portrayals were overdone just to the point where you realize how silly we are for categorizing people in these ways. The Boy Scout merit badge skit was simply awesome: the book burning merit badge, liberal spotting merit badge, and polygamy merit badge were my favorites. :D Nice skit playing off of the recent "offended by dance" letter in the Daily Universe, featuring the "Guide for when to be Offended, Mormon Edition." It's only funny because it's true. This is the kind of humor that can really do something powerful. It changes how people act and think.

Dating Comments (10/15/06)
It's pretty much established canon in our stake that the Sunday school lesson during ward conference will be a lecture on dating. No, it's not as bad as it sounds. Last year's was wonderful: we got to watch a clip from Hitch, and then have President Keech tell us the we should go on more frequent dates with less pressure. His focus was that we have shrunk the "dating continum" such that asking a girl on a first date has become almost synonymous with capital-D Dating, which is only a small step away from being engaged. We need to spread it back out, so that a first date is just that: a date. (I admit to being guilty of perpetuating this problem, but that's another story.)

Anyway, this year's was equally good, though a little more serious since it was President Brenchley, but still. Here's the highlights reel: "Brethren, we want you to be going on one date a week for the rest of your lives." (The feminist side of me wishes he would have extended such a challenge to the women, but then I remember how much I hate asking guys out and go back to my traditionalist senses. Anyway, theoretically, if all guys asked someone out once a week, this should work out to one date per girl. Unfortunately, I can attest this is not the case.) Remember Elder Oaks' 3 P's of dating: paired off, planned ahead, payed for. (Of course, "payed for" doesn't necessarily mean spending money. The implication, though, is an activity that one person is in charge of arranging for. If there's money involved, it shouldn't be "hang-out style"--everyone pays for themselves--at least until significantly later in the process.) Get to work! What's wrong with spending time and money on getting to know a person, even if you don't intend to marry them?

Excellent Idea (10/17/06)
Speaking of dating, I'm always on the look out for fun and random things to do, but I think the idea of a improvisational desert night tops out as the best idea in recent memory. Yes, it even tops sardines in the HFAC and graveyard games in the Provo cemetary. Given my organized nature, I feel compelled to create an organized version of the rules. Try it out! This could be the new . . . tupperware party? Alright, that sounds lame. Nevermind, because this is definitely cool.

Improv Desert Night
Players: 4 individuals/pairs/teams

Equipment:
Basic cooking supplies, specifically flour, sugar (white, brown, powdered), butter, oil, milk, eggs, baking powder/soda, salt, cornstarch and vanilla, in quanities large enough for four recipies
Cooking equipment, including mixing bowls, saucepans, whisks, spoons, and pans
1 kitchen
1 secret ingredient per team, in quantities large enough for four recipes
1 cookbook per team
10 dollars per team

1. Select a time and place for the desert night. Find the largest kitchen area you can.
2. Before the event, compile and circulate a "Prefer Not" list for secret ingredients. Survey the participants for allergies and general dislikes. Encourage participants to be kind and not choose anything on this list as a secret ingredient.
3. Before the event, each team should choose a secret ingredient, Iron Chef style, which each team will be challenged to include in their dessert (eg. graham crackers, cranberries, peanut butter). Keep this a secret from the other teams.
4. Each team should bring a reasonable quantity of their secret ingredient to the event--enough to make four recipes of a size to serve everyone in attendance. On game day, once all teams have arrived, have each team announce its secret ingredient.
5. Teams will then have a short brainstorming session (10-15 min) to decide what type of desert they would like to attempt. The goal is to include as many of the secret ingredients as possible. Each team can use its own cookbook for ideas, but no one elses. Don't rely too much on the cookbook. Come up with unique creations. No spying!
6. After brainstorming has finished, head to the grocery store for a ten minute, ten dollar shopping trip. If a team needs any ingredients for its recipe other than the basic cooking supplies and the secret ingredients, this is the time to get them. Don't forget specialized cooking supplies. Ten minutes only! Those who are late will be severely mocked.
7. Back at the kitchen, the cooking madness begins! Teams have one hour to finish their dessert. Stovetop and oven space is first-come, first serve.
8. If at any time any team's recipe needs help, they may shout "May the Kitchen Gods have mercy on my spatula!" The other teams may choose to help them out or ignore their pitiful pleas. There's no reward or punishment for doing so.
9. When the time limit is up, each desert will be sampled by all. Each team will be scored on a scale from 1 to 4 (1=worst, 4=best) in the following areas:

• Use of Secret Ingredients (one point for each used)
• Tastiness
• Presentation
• Creativity
• Sportsmanship
  

10. The team with the most points wins! Bask in your bragging rights as the master desert chefs!

Refining "Refinement"

Even though I'm clearly way past the kairos for this piece, I'm writing it anyway because something definitely needs to be said. Here's my reaction to Elder Callister's devotional address, "Your Refined Heavenly Home," in three parts.

The Good:
In general, I liked the concept behind Elder Callister's talk. People outside the humanities/arts frequently underestimate their importance in shaping our souls. I was especially drawn to his ideas on refinement in speech. Not particularly the parts ostesibly about slang language. (Is he aware that the word "awesome" doesn't necessarily have to be used in an over-exaggerated way? Someone ought to hand him a copy of "How Great Thou Art," a great hymn that uses awesome in the way it was always intended to be used.)

What I really liked was his idea of good conversation. Too many times when I try to draw in concepts from great literature into conversations, I get blank stares before the talk turns back to the football game or who went out with who last weekend. It's sad that so few people actually want to discuss great things. To me, conversation and philosophy should run together, and anything you discuss in a paper can also be made into a great conversation. I'm so glad that I have CS Lewis Society and the Writing Center as good outlets for more refined conversation.

I also liked his discussion of music, partly because he agreed with my opinion. :D Music is a way to try to express the glory and power of certain words. I also liked that he pointed out the importance of seasonal music. Last year I had a roommate who hated Christmas music and it drove me batty. Certain songs are associated with the feelings of certain seasons, and playing them enhances the spirit of the season.

And finally, what English major worth her stuff wouldn't jump at the idea of good literature as the "minor prophets?" This is what I'm always trying to tell people about the importance of literature. Sure, their insights are not as profound and directly gospel oriented as the scriptures, but they offer insights into the human condition and human potential that we can get in no other way. Another good quote: "Refinement and spirituality are two strings drawn by the same bow." Learning about these famous books makes us more sensitive to other people, which helps us increase our charity towards them. And alternately, studying the gospel draws us to seek out more and better media. As we increase one, we usually increase the other.

The Bad:
A few points in his talk certainly rubbed me the wrong way, but I think these are common misconceptions about media, so I'm not surprised to see them pop up here.

The first thing that bugged me was, of course, that he throws out TV and DVDs as purely negative things in contrast to the supreme virtues of reading and music. Highly educated people seem to have this bias against film, which I hate. Film is simply a medium, a neutral way of communicating certain types of thoughts in certain ways. It has its limitations compared to writing, painting, and music, but it has its advantages as well.

What he really meant to criticize was not the medium itself, but rather the content thereof. But the same trashy content can be found in all mediums. Is reading some sappy chic-lit any better (intellectually speaking) than watching it? And how is watching a Nova series on string theory less edifying than the book covering the same material? It's very tempting for us to say "All reading is intelligent, and all movies and television are a waste of time" because this is a lot easier than going the extra mile to judge the actual content of the media. But those who dismiss film so off-handedly will certainly miss out.

On another note, the connection he builds between highly educated people and salvation made me a little wary. I'm sure he didn't mean it this way, but it implies that people who live the gospel can't possibly be worthy of exaultation unless they share his taste in music and books. In this way, his talk is alienating to the poor saints in other countries. Are they any less worthy of the Celestial kingdom because they had not time in their lives of subsistence to read the great works of literature? This talk is a little middle-class centric, something which the church needs to avoid.

The Ugly:
(This last section is doubling as my 5th progymnasmata assignment, which is to do either a refutation or a confirmation on something. Thus the slightly more formal tone and summary of the situation. Also, I realize it is disproportionately long compared to the other sections, but alas.)

Elder Douglas L. Callister's status as a seventy and a law professor might seem to put him beyond reproach, but no amount of respect ought to justify the offensive and inappropriate remarks found in his recent devotional talk. Either Elder Callister has been more careless about the implications of his words than most lawyers would allow themselves to be, or he is far more insensitive to the situation of women than most General Authorities. Whatever the case may be, his remarks on physical appearance were unbecoming of both his education and his station in the church.

During his devotional speech entitled "Your Refined Heavenly Home," Elder Callister addressed the importance of physical appearance in a relationship. He begins by telling the story of a young husband seeking to compliment his wife on her various talents and skills. After a few days, the husband is rebuffed by his young wife who says, "Don't say any of those things. Just tell me you think I am beautiful." He follows up this story with a statement that:

Every man has the right to be married to a woman who makes herself as beautiful as she can be and who looks in the mirror to tidy herself up before he comes home. Every woman has the right to be married to a man who keeps himself clean, physically as well as morally, and takes pride in his appearance.

I find the behavior of the wife in Elder Callister's anecdote quite difficult to believe. Although it is true that some women enjoy being complimented on their personal appearance, it would be a rare woman indeed who would prefer it to the exclusion of all other compliments. Compliments tend to mean the most when they are about our accomplishments earned by much effort. Skill in keeping house, cooking, raising children, and good conversation must be earned with much diligent work, but it not often noticed. Compliments in these areas would show the husband had a genuine awareness and appreciation of how much effort the wife put into the day-to-day running of the household.

As to the matter of beauty, much of what is being complimented comes simply from the genetic lottery. Unless a woman has spent an inordinate amount of time preparing her appearance, as for dates, formal dances, and other events, one might as well compliment her parents for her beauty rather than her, since they had much more control over the outcome than she did. Although the occasional compliment on personal appearance is wonderful, it is much like congratulating someone on rolling a twelve in a dice game, or getting a good hand in poker. Sure, it's wonderful luck, but what comes with little thought also merits little thought in the long run.

Even if we concede that the wife in the story might have really appreciated being called beautiful more than any other compliment, the conclusions that Elder Callister draws from this story are certainly poorly fitting to his audience. The students that constituted his primary audience are not to the point in their lives where they have "let themselves go," as he says, because they were already settled down with a family. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Many, if not most, of those listening were not yet married, and are therefore still quite concerned about the ability of their personal appearance to attract a spouse. Rather than convincing these students to shape up there own appearance, Elder Callister's talk merely gave license to many to increase the importance of physical appearance in their search for a potential spouse. This is counterproductive to several other parts of his speech where he advises students to concentrate on the inner personality and appreciation of the arts as important points in a potential date.

Another problem lies in that Elder Callister's conclusions are not equal for both genders. His conclusion, that men have a "right" to a beautiful wife, contrasts strongly with his statement that wives deserve a husband "who takes pride in his appearance." Essentially, he states that women ought to concentrate on how their appearance pleases others, specifically their husband, but men ought to have pride in their appearance for his own sake. There is no mention of husbands trying to look handsome for their wives, only that they should be clean and proud of how they look for their own sake. His comments reflect an attitude now outdated by several decades of feminism, and thus inappropriate to a modern audience who believes that women should be valued equally with men, and not just for their "beautiful" appearance. Nearly all the women I've spoken to about his devotional were offended by the sexist nature of his remarks.

Certainly, our physical appearance has a large impact on how we act and think. We should keep ourselves clean and neat at all times. But Elder Callister's approach to this topic was poorly done, as it puts physical appearance higher in importance than one's personal achievements of character.

(A much better talk on the importance of personal appearane was given by Sister Susan W. Tanner, the Young Women General President, in October 2005 general conference. One line in particular stuck with me and has become my personal motto regarding the importance of appearance: "“You must do everything you can to make your appearance pleasing, but the minute you walk out the door, forget yourself and start concentrating on others.")

Standard Issue

There's a problem with dating in the church.

I'm aware this is the understatement of the century. What I mean to say is, there's a particular problem with dating in the church that's been on my mind lately. It's basically the problem of where we draw the line within the church. Let me explain: I can't remember where I read this lately--I think it might have been by Orson Scott Card--but outside observers have remarked that Mormonism is a faith with few strongly held universal beliefs.

I know, at first this can be rather shocking to us, but at some levels it is certainly true. Yes, the LDS Church has pretty clear conceptions on the most important points of our doctrine--the plan of salvation, the atonement, priesthood authority, necessary ordinances, etc.--but when you get away from the main doctrines necessary to salvation, there's a lot more wiggle room. Political beliefs, Sunday observance, media standards, and more are all left up to the choice of the individual, and you get faithful Latter-day Saints at all parts of the spectrum (well, almost all anyway).

And for the most part, we manage to tolerate each other within the church. Granted, we all believe that there is one true standard, but usually we're humble enough to realize that we have little way of knowing whether that standard is closer to ours or the next person's. We're content to let each person within the church follow the guidance of the Spirit towards the truth, even though the path may look extremely different for different people.

This is all fine and dandy most of the time. But then we reach a problem. It's called marriage. Alright, I couldn't resist that one. I promise I'm not usually this pessimistic. Anyway, the problem in marriage is that it's not a commandment you keep by yourself. It requires the agreement of two faithful church members on one set of standards in which to raise their children. Given the number of possible variations of beliefs within the church, I think it's highly unlikely that any person could manage to find someone who they are attracted to who has precisely the same set of standards.

Now, it's much easier to tolerate differences in standards when you aren't close to people. What do you care what the person across the row from you in sacrament meeting believes? Unfortunately, in dating, you become a lot closer to a person (again with the understatement) and standard differences begin to become a problem. The more liberal person begins to feel looked down on by the conservative one; the conservative one acts more self-righteous than they intend to; and things just go downhill from there.

I've heard some pretty terrible break up stories come from this problem--horrible DTR lines like "I can't feel the Spirit in your apartment," girls breaking up with guys they really like because they felt looked down on. Well, let me be frank (as opposed to Bob): the specific problem I've noticed is guys (, at BYU, among the people I hang out with,) being a lot more conservative than girls. Maybe this has something to do with the mission thing. Maybe it's just that men tend to be more gung-ho and focused on a single goal than women.

I don't know what it is, but it is really annoying me lately, and frankly I don't know what to do about it. Lately, it's seemed like if I meet a guy who has my standards, we really have nothing in common, but if I meet a guy who seems perfect for me, he's way more conservative than I am. I don't know that I want to hold out waiting for both to show up in one person, but how am I supposed to choose which is more important? Do I change my standards because of someone else? Even if it's revising them "upward," it still doesn't feel like the right thing to do. Married people/relationship gurus out there, any suggestions on dealing with this?

Of course, this is all sadly hypothetical. Well, mostly.

On a less serious note . . .
Apt 15 Quote of the Day: "Grammar is lazy."

Here I Come Back From the Dead

Hallelujiah!!! After many, many frantic emails to the Blogger Team, my blog has been salvaged from the crushing jaws of the Blogger Beta switch-over. And it couldn't have come at a better time. My blog withdrawal symptoms--composing blog entries in my head on my way to work, strong urges to write long comments on other people's blogs, cursing Blogger (even Google on occasion) in my spare time--were getting so bad that I was about to do something drastic like switch over to another blogging site. I don't think I could have faced a new school year without this outlet, so good timing, Blogger support. (I think I'm probably addicted to Blogger.)

So here's a run down of some of the insane things that have been going on during the downtime.

Trapped by weddings - People around me should stop getting married. It makes me depressed. *pout* But really. Two of my cousins got married this month, plus several couples in our ward got engaged and/or married, and "Someday" from The Wedding Singer musical (track 2 on the sample player) has been stuck in my head for the last week. I seem to be surrounded by weddings and I don't like it one bit. I know it's odd, but I've yet to encounter this problem at BYU--somehow I made it through two years unscathed by the marital influence of Happy Valley. Now all of these weddings are suddenly contributing to a strange transformation in my life, that is, I'm becoming a hopeless romantic. I'm trying really hard to resist it, but I feel a bizarre compulsion to read romance novels (which my collection appears to be lacking in--why in the world do I only own classics and fantasies?) and watch chick flicks (ditto). This whole business annoys me to no end, since I've always thought romantics were a little out of touch with reality. Now that I'm becoming one of them, I know I was wrong: romantics are a lot out of touch with reality. Reality, come back! I need you! Snap me out of it, because at this rate I will either become insanely depressed or insanely flirtatious, and I don't think anyone wants to see either of those.

Writing fiction - I've still only made it about half way through "Swan Song," but hopefully I'll get to spend some good hours writing on Labor Day and finish that up. It's probably going to end up a little too long to post here, but if you guys are interested in reading the rest, let me know and maybe I'll, I dunno, make it downloadable from my BYU webspace or something. And I've generated a few other short story ideas that I'm going to work on after that's over. This is really exciting, since the last time I wrote something creative and entirely fictional was . . . elementary school? Yup, I think so. I just didn't feel like I could write fiction; I didn't know where to begin. But after actually, you know, trying it, it's not that hard.

NaNoWriMo - Speaking of fiction, my withdrawal period from blogging made me realize how much I really enjoy writing--not just for self-analysis and communication and that, but real creative writing. And I don't do nearly enough of that. Through some random internet surfing way too late at night involving massive amounts of sugar-derived energy, I've made the decision to participate in National Novel Writing Month 2006 (affectionately known as NaNoWriMo). Yes, this November I am going to complete a novel of 50,000+ words in less that a month. While still in classes. Right after midterms. And working 15 hours a week. Ha ha, I am insane. Try to stop me. No, no, don't try to stop me. In fact, I challenge anyone who reads this blog who has ever thought about writing a novel to participate with me. Don't be one of those "someday" novel writers--the best time to write is now! You don't need experience or a plot. Just sheer will power. Do it with me! Plus, I need a support group to force me to write--we're talking the equivalent of four single-spaced pages a day in order to finish. :D

But I really like the concept behind NaNoWriMo: force yourself to write, and don't think too hard about how crappy your writing is. I like this quote from a review of No Plot? No Problem!:

The key is to lower your expectations "from 'best-seller' to 'would not make someone vomit,' " says Baty [founder of NaNoWriMo], who maintains that stress and a deadline are important parts of writing.

True that. If you just do it, it will get better. And I've already got an interesting idea for the novel. So I'm set to go. Hurrah!

Bonus points if you can figure out where the title of this post comes from.

Categories

This post is kind of like a Jeopardy category: three completely different things, tangentally related by the same word, coincidentally "category" itself in this case.

Heh, heh. Yes, it did take me this long to feel more awake. Between seeing Harry and the Potters and then a Relief Society sleepover yesterday. Anyway, H&tP were so funny. Their songs are, of course, mediocre to bad, but seeing them performed was hilarious! And I still have "Save Ginny Weasley (from Dean Thomas)" and "the Weasel" stuck in my head. But you didn't really care to know about that. The more interesting matter actually happened before the concert. There were several other bands playing that night, and since I was about 30 mins early, I got to listen to some of the other music from this really strange band. Very apocalyptic and creepy, not really my fare, though it gave me a great idea for a short story.

Mostly, I tried to block out the music and just spent the time watching people. Highly amusing watching a bunch of indie music fans mixing (or not) with Harry Potter fans, and seeing how some people manage to fit in both groups, but they still act differently in each mode. It's interesting how people self-sort into categories. Everyone's rebelling against something, but in rebelling, we find ourselves among a group of people exactly like ourselves, which runs us into complacency. I'm not sure if I think that's a good or bad thing. Rebelling and redefining yourself all the time takes a lot of energy, especially when gliding along with a certain group can get you the same effect, mostly. But then again, you've also got to remain alert enough to jump ship when the group starts heading somewhere you don't like . . . .

Speaking of categories, at the RS sleepover, we talked about the five love languages, which led me to wonder what my love languages are, and how I can improve on some of the ones I don't have. Being a writer, of course, I would have to say Words of Affirmation is my top language. Quality time I love, but pretty much suck at, only because my schedule doesn't coincide with other people's. I guess I should start making more of an effort to spend time with my friends and roomies, if they'll take me back. Gifts/Service aren't mine except on rare occasions, but I realized a year ago that this is my Dad's, and it has helped me understand him so much better. Touch . . . not so much. I tend to feel very uncomfortable around touchy-feely people. Don't get me wrong: touch is very important to me, but it's not something I do casually. It's almost a sacred thing, and I get very annoyed with people who do it casually. For me, only really with family and very, very close friends--people I really trust and am loyal to--are allowed. Though the Hug Video has helped with that a bit. :D (If you haven't seen it, ask me to show you.)

And finally, how about categorizing yourself? Where do you think you fit on the Five Kinds of Mormons? I'd hope to put myself in the CM category, though I may have some OM and LM tendencies. (Sorry for the random blog link, but there's no place with the official text. If you want this in book form, I recommend buying the Robert Kirby compilation Sunday of the Living Dead. Dirt Cheap and Pretty Dang Hilarious. Kirby is someone I would probably put in my personal cannon of good LDS lit, as a social critic, which we need more of. But more on why when I get to writing about LDS lit.)

Life Suspended

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want to do with the rest of my life. I mean in terms of a career. Assuming I have one.

And that's precisely the problem. I really dislike my position at this point in life because there isn't enough certainty to build any sort of plan on. Basically, I feel like I'm caught in a Murphy's-Law-like situation, with no way to avoid having my heart broken. If I base my dreams on a brilliant public career, I will probably be happily married and stay at home in obscurity. If I set my heart on marriage, I will become the sweet old maid Primary teacher of some family ward (Katherine, you know who I'm thinking of).

Of course, my preoccupation with this topic has a lot to do with my anxiety about myself not being marriageable material. I think I've wallowed in that trough of self-pity and what-if-ing enough to bore you readers--if you still exist--to death.

But a fear of being miserable in life is not really the problem right now. I have no (or little) doubt that, with Heavenly Father's guidance, I will end up in a situation that will make me happy. The problem is that the two possible natures of that situation leave no room for a certain course. And so in trying to cover all my bases and prepare for either possibility, I worry that I will pay too much attention to the wrong one, or fall in the cracks between. Basically, it's an issue of cosmic suspense--like being in the middle of a novel and just wanting to know how this one thing will turn out so that you can relax and enjoy the rest of the book. I just wish someone would tell me which way I should set my heart.

In Elder Oaks' famous Anti-Hanging-Out Talk, he says this to the single women:

If you are just marking time waiting for a marriage prospect, stop waiting. You may never have the opportunity for a suitable marriage in this life, so stop waiting and start moving. Prepare yourself for life—even a single life—by education, experience, and planning. Don’t wait for happiness to be thrust upon you. Seek it out in service and learning. Make a life for yourself. And trust in the Lord. Your dedication of a lifetime should follow King Benjamin’s advice to be “calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come” (Mosiah 4:11).

Good advice by any standard. Even most dating-tip books tell you to go out and be involved since that's inherently more interesting than sitting around and waiting. Good for either plan, right?

So I attempt to plan my future: Grad school in either English or Chemistry is out. Though I love each subject dearly, I couldn't take being steeped so thoroughly in the dogma of any one specific area--especially considering grad school requires specialization, which I tend to abhor. I adore and covet the idea of going to law school, but not because I would enjoy a career in law--I would probably hate it. I would go there just for the experience, and to learn to think more analytically. But could I really justify spending that much money just because I find it fascinating? (Especially if I did get married . . . .)

If I were to pursue a career, it would be probably be writing--everything and anything, fiction, non-fiction, articles, novels, everything. But if I did that, I couldn't settle for obscurity. I have an innate thirst for fame--I'm sort of ego-centric that way. I would want to be big. I would want to write things that would change the world. (Thus, I'm currently reading Writing to Change the World, and thoroughly anticipating the chapter on blogs. Great book thus far, though the attempt to hide Pipher's liberal bias is quite superficial . . . but a more thorough review later.)

But if I try to go for my dream, try to be famous, revolutionary, life-changing, at what point have I gone to far and ruined my chances of ever truly being satisfied with being quietly at home? And what if I wasn't done with school before my husband needed to go somewhere else for grad school or work? And would I still be able to pursue even higher education, for no other purpose than self-enlightenment and fulfillment? Could I really spend our time and money that way? And as much as I tell myself that I could still write if I got married, that I could do both, I'm not sure it would really happen. I would get so wrapped up in the joys of a family--and it would be joyous, probably more than any fame--that writing, real writing, would get pushed out of the way.

Guys don't have this problem. At least, not the way I see it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the path to a fulfilling life looks exactly the same, whether you end up single or not. You will need a career you can enjoy, regardless. If you happen to get married, than all the better. If not, then you just keep working on it on the side. But for women it is different--marriage is a life-redirecting experience, for good or ill.

All I want is to know what avenue to throw my passion into, and then to be able to let that passion run full throttle, without the risk of crashing and burning when I attempt to turn.

But it's clearly too much to ask: Heavenly Father apparently writes great suspense novels.

A Groundling Experience

The experimental theatre group on campus was performing Much Ado about Nothing, one of my favorite Shakespeare plays, for free near the botany pond on campus yesterday. Since none of my friends wanted to go, I picked up my knitting and headed down by myself. Of course, I wasn't expecting any really high quality acting, but all things considered I'd say that the play was definitely worth seeing. The actors weren't particularly wonderful and sometimes forgot their lines (not that I blame them--I don't think I could ever memorize that much), but they had some interesting takes on the characters (Beatrice and Benedick as the geeks? Don Pedro as a strict general?) good BYU spins on the Shakespeare. Maybe it's just because I have been considering the nature of love lately, but I noticed how much the play reads just like a manual of what (not) to do when forming a relationship.

I liked the way they set up Claudio's distress that Don Pedro wooed Hero for himself: it made me realize just how ridiculous/dangerous it is to use second hand messengers in matters of the heart. We've been discussing this in our apartment and decided it's just so much better to be simple and frank (so long as you are careful not to be too intimidating). I also realized how truly insecure Beatrice's character is: she puts up a good offensive front of wit, but underneath I think she is simply worried about the possibility that no desireable man would want to marry a smart girl. I definitely empathize with here . . . but we don't need another rant on my worries about being alone, do we?

But the part that really made my day was the groundling experience. Let me explain: I was late, so I showed up during Benedick's rant about not getting married, which means I unfortunately missed the initial banter between Beatrice and Benedick. All the chairs worth taking were taken, so I ended up sitting on the grass, which I preferred anyway. The play was very all encompassing if you were sitting on the ground. I got to watch the actors rush past me to the mascarade, and have Benedick and Claudio exit past me discussing Hero. It was great!

But even during the initial scenes we could hear thunder in the distance and while Hero and her maid were baiting Beatrice the clouds broke open and started to pour down really hard rain on us. Some people immediately got up and left, but I sort of liked it. I was nice to have the play be part of reality instead of some carefully set apart experience in a dark room. The actors added reactiongs to the thunder, especially when it came at appropriate moments in the script. I felt like a groundling in the 13th century, having paid little (in this case, nothing) to get in and stand (sit on the ground) during the entire play. It was very postmodern experiencing the full force of the play along with the elements--nothing outside the text indeed. It connects a lot with my recent fascination with immersive gaming.

Of course, once it started to hail, they cancelled the second half. They're doing the same play again today at 6:30 pm in the JFSB courtyard. Maybe I'll go instead of hanging around for Stadium of Fire. Oooh! Maybe the fireworks will be timed right and come in during the ending wedding scene!

Beauty and A Really Old (-Fashioned) Love Story

I am not usually the type of person for love stories. Perhaps because I have little (read: no) experience in them myself, they've always seemed far more fantastic and unrealistic than the sci-fi and fantasy I prefer. Also, I usually don't empathize very well with the heroines: either charming or naive, but always beautiful, none of which I have pretensions to. I've always defined myself based on a fairly gender-neutral intelligence. Pretty much, I think Jane Austen is boring, and my favorite chic flicks are IQ and You've Got Mail, mostly for Einstein and the witty construction (respectively) rather than the love story, which gets in the way for me.

Leave it to Orson Scott Card to write a romance that I could really enjoy. I'm only half-way through Rebekah, the second in his Women of Genesis series, and if there was anyone who could improve on the beauty of that story in the Old Testament, then it's the OSC. As a friend of mine said (John, this means you) Card is so amazing at understanding people that he makes you feel like a genius just to be witness to his analysis. In Card's religious fiction (Women of Genesis + Stone Tables), I have been continually impressed with his ability to flesh out these iconic figures into realistic characters while still remaining faithful to their place in the religious cannon. Without ruining the story for anyone who hasn't read it, Rebekah has shed much light in my mind on the issue of beauty.

He made me remember that for some beauty can be as much a curse as a blessing when looking for a relationship. (As Tevia would say, may God smite me with it, and may I never recover.) I had sort of realized this in the character of Lina in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants--kitschy, I know, but true in feeling. Beauty--true beauty, and not just good grooming--is unlike almost any other trait in that it seems to happen almost as an accident, not being an essential part of a person's character. Rebekah's realization of her own beauty and subsequent panic were quite enlightening--I've never had the same worry that someone might want me not for myself but for some accident of birth.

Some will object that beauty is not so much looks as a way of behaving, and this is the other thing Card brings out. As Rebekah meets a particular woman for the first time, she is shocked to realize that though she is as beautiful as this woman, Rebekah has none of the grace, charm, and social skill necessary to really use this to full, feminine advantage. And so she sets out to learn and acquire the ability to make small-talk, flirt (such as it is in biblical times), etc. Until recently, I had mostly assumed that people were either just born with this grace or without: I had never really contemplated it as a skill to be acquired.

Now that I think about it, this is one skill that I could really use, considering my natural tendency is to be blunt or outspokenly passionate about everything. A little charm or grace could do a lot to mediate the bad effects of these two things. I've always avoided being too feminine, but maybe it's time to dabble in that area. I won't hesistate to say I feel quite silly though.

(Aside: I find it ironic that I finish this post while listening to "Astonishing," the song from the Little Women musical in which Jo's refuses Laurie's proposal. Pretty much the antithesis to the woman aspiring to marriage, and currently one of my favorite songs. Hmm.)

a little fall of rain, a house of grace

"I" goes out with the smell of rain,
the skin shed from a snake
exposing a new layer

i see
Angel rings
Ripples
in the pool.

if only I could be--

fastest rising highest
That I might be healed

Ripples fall
faster and faster
i have no chance
can't get, run, catch,
already too late to begin

So many ripples
but not for me

alone.
no ripples--
yet surrounded

could there be rain,
make flowers grow
inside the withered soul?

false expectation,
over-played;
under-interest,
disgust & fatigue
setting myself up.

There could be rain,
it is waiting

i see it waiting
but I am hiding
Afraid of finding what I seek.

After Poem Wind-Down, in Prose

Funny how sometimes when you think you know just the right person to cheer you up or help you out, the universe sends the exactly wrong person. But today, he ended up being the right person because he made me realize all that I am not. I am not hopeless, clueless, or alone. That I do have skills, that I could be likeable, that there is hope for joy.

And I know the answer to my poem is in What the Thunder Said. But how does one get there from the Wasteland? (Sorry for the literary reference, but if you haven't read it, you should. And then you should talk about it with someone who has, or it won't mean anything.) My life is so centered on being lost, different, and alone that it's difficult to see the pathway to being part of something. I seem to have an idea of the bridge, in which I'm sure Christ is involved, but the path is still hazy to me.

Perhaps this all comes about from reading the Screwtape Letters. Or it's another factor anyway. I know, I should hardly dare to put CS Lewis on my interests list if I haven't read it before, but there's a first time for anything. But that part about keeping our beliefs in the theoretical, thinking it is enough to simply think about action, and allowing that to lead us to complacency, that hit to my core. That's me--living in the world of my ideals.

A sign on a professor's door in the Benson building reads:

Theoretically, there's no difference between theory and practice.
Practically, there is.

And that sums up my problem: I know a lot about people and relationships theoretically, but practically is another matter. I am not good at risking myself, trying, caring, being there. And I feel I should be, despite the fact that I have never done so. As a child, I never played games until I was sure I could win (which probably explains my aversion to sports). That continues to today. I have never actually played Risk, but I have watched it so many times. Video games, same deal: I've seen them all, played none. Never played DDR, but I like the idea of it. Ultimate Frisbee, definitely not at all. And relationships, where it's not a game, are much worse. How can I possibly learn how to win before I start?

In order for me to ever find what I seek, I must be willing to "take chances, make mistakes, and get messy." But I am not. I need to find a way to be able to. I could try locking myself off, but clearly that's not something I would do. I try to keep my self at the surface, but as a result I have to be very cautious or I can break. Do break, actually, but we try to keep the damage down.

Growing Together

Sort of a follow-up to my "Weary of Well-Speaking" post: As I said in the comments, one of the reasons I am irritated by debaters is they are taught to win arguments, not to search for truth. The more I think about it, the more I see the reoccurance of this problem in society. Aside from the obvious example of politicians, I am specifically thinking about this principle as it applies to marriage and other personal relationships. At institute tonight (the Marriage and Family series--no great wonder), we discussed at length the yoke metaphor used by the Savior in Matthew 11:28-30:

28 ¶Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

One implication of the metaphor struck me as particularly relevant to what I've been trying to get at recently: If one ox in a yolk pushes too strongly for his own way, rather than following the Lord's way, not only does the team deviate from the path, but they can end up going in circles. When we fight too hard for our own ideas and decisions, it is often at the expense of progress, change, and growth. If instead we are meek about our own ideas and work with the Lord, He will guide our progress in the desired direction.

Of course, this analogy translates not only to our relationship with the Lord, or to a relationship with a future spouse, but really to any relationship in our lives, including parents, roommates, siblings, and friends. Really, the point where we seem to get into trouble in a relationship is where we want things "my way" without bothering to understand the possibility of an "our way." Talking escalates to contention when we set as our ground rule that we are right.

In most arguments of my experience, the phrase "Listen to me" or "Are you listening?" or some variant usually comes up. Well, that's a silly question. If you weren't listening, there wouldn't be an argument going on. What they really mean to ask is "What you are listening for?" Are you listening merely to catch the weak points of their position, so best to plan your next attack when they finally finish, and, assuming they ever stop spouting such utter nonsense, you'll set them straight on the facts? Or are you listening with understanding, to truly comprehend what has led to your differences in position, to find the common ground, the truth behind the conflict? When we are seeking for a good solution for both parties, arguments dissolve into discussions, contention into compromise, confusion into construction.

It's similar to the idea behind my Circle Theory and Habit #4 of Covey's Seven Habits. The secret behind both greater intelligence and more successful relationships is the same: learning to think of opposing views not as the enemy, but as a partner, realizing that compromising can be growth instead of loss. When instead of attacking our political opponents, we sit down with them, get to know the beliefs behind their views; when instead of becoming frustrated with our parent's pushy-ness or old-fashioned-ideas, we understand their motivations and principles; when we not only understand others' beliefs, but come to believe them as well, it is then that the true growth starts.

If we continue to divide humanity into smaller and smaller groups according to who agrees with us, we will end up with nothing. But when we seek to include others, and most importantly the Lord, in our search for right, our ability to grow together borders on the infinite. Division is only necessary for definition of problems, not for truth. Once we have divided, it is our duty to once again build and grow together. If we are not one, well, you know. . . .

Family Drama

This post is an update of an old personal narrative of mine. I found it again while doing some spring cleaning in my filing cabinet. Since then, I've been thinking about it a lot, especially in light of Katherine's blog. I think it's relevant to most of our families, so I thought I'd post it here.

Prologue
Who am I? The oldest, the clean freak, the over-achiever, maybe the bossy one, probably not the kindest, and certainly not the most athletic. That part's easy, but since this act is my life, identifying me gets more complicated.

Act I
The oven timer buzzes in the kitchen, begging Mom to return to cooking dinner. She claims she has stepped away for just a moment. I doubt it. Plastic swords click and clack down the hall, eventually interrupted by wails of terror and pounding feet. Josh has decided he's done with the duel. Michael decides he's not. The opening theme of Star Wars and the clinking of knitting needles comes from the back room, where Heather is working on her latest project: a fluffy scarf in shocking pink.

From the front room, Spencer's fingers fly up and down the piano, the buzzing notes forming the incessant melody of "The Flight of the Bumblebee." Listening to it for the first time was quite a remarkable experience; the song sounded so like a bee flying around your head at a picnic. However, the droning melody could be tolerated only so many times before the desire to squash the insect overpowered the listener. Spencer had been playing the song obsessively for the past hour, and now my fingers itched to take a flyswatter to the keyboard. Luckily, Dad was at work, or the cheering crowd of the NBA semifinals would be added to the already intolerable din.

"Spencer, could you please practice later? I need to study and that song is driving me insane," I pleaded, trudging into the front room with a week's worth of biology notes.

"You messed me up! Now I'm going to have to start all over," he said, with a suspiciously undisappointed grin. "Go study somewhere else."

"I can hear you everywhere in the house, so it doesn't really matter. I have a test tomorrow! Come on!"

"Then go outside. I was here first."

"Argh!"

Act II
"Michael, leave Josh alone. Josh, stop overreacting to Mike. He's just tring to bug you," I quipped, trying to diffuse yet another fight.

"Shut up, Liz! Stop being the mom!" Mike shouts back. His words deflate my false sense of impartiality. Those syllables recall weeks and months of built up tension, mostly from parents who wanted me to stop being so critical and finally coined that wonderful phrase. Of course, the issue couldn't be handled privately and personally. Our family never addressed any elephant sitting on the front lawn until tempers flared and someone wanted to inflict maximum damage.

"You're not the mom, Liz." That phrase, in all its variations, served quite well as the all-purpose comeback, and my siblings had used it to a fault. Seldom could I speak a word without having that refrain echo back to my ears. The constant repetition had created a definite bitterness.

But it's not as simple as that, I rationalize. I know I'm bossy, but I don't do it because I want to be or because I think I'm in charge. All right, sometimes my motives are purely selfish, but sometimes they're not. Sometimes I just want some peace and quiet, for the chaos to just stop. Is it so unfair to want some peace in my own house?

Irrationally, against anyone's better judgment, fragmented emotions stream out of my mouth, the ones that had stewed for weeks. Now they made little sense outside my own head. "You shut up! I know I should stop. So thanks for telling me again, as if I don't get reminded of my biggest fault every second of every day! And I try, I really do. But could you just stop? I can't take all this any more. I'm just trying to help! I don't care what you say."

It's a lie, an act.

Act III
"What?" I said.

I had lost them in November. It was now June.

"We found your DVDs. While Heather was gone at camp, I was cleaning her room and found them under a pile of socks in her closet," said my mother, holding up the discovered items.

I grabbed the DVDs out of her hand and shuffled through them. "But I've been looking for those forever! I specifically asked her if she knew where they were, like, a million times!"

Mom drew her breath, trying to figure out how best to put what she had to say. "When I asked her about them, she said she was sick of you watching that show all the time. You know how she hates it. So she took them."

She stole them.

My breath lodged in my throat as the universe paused. Heather and I had never been close, except in age: sisters, but not friends. I was the designated honors student; she hated me for it and made sure not to do anything that I had ever tried. We even went to separate high schools. We were too different. Despite that, I suddenly felt betrayed, unsafe in my own house. I had found other things of mine in her room before, but never anything as costly and arbitrary as this. What about that brush that disappeared last week? Is that hiding in a drawer in her dresser? Was my favorite shirt stashed under her bed? That single act forcibly removed a security blanket I didn't know I had, leaving me old in my own stronghold.

She stole them.

The universe and my breath rushed back in shuddering sobs.

Act IV
"Mark, Cristina, and the new baby are coming to Salt Lake on Thursday," Mom proclaimed that afternoon. "Cristina's still very sick; she needs people to help her take care of Amelia."

I was still in a state of shock at the suddenness of the events. While most of our family lived in Salt Lake, my aunt and uncle lived across the country. When Cristina became very ill after giving birth, they had no family around to help them. So we brought them here, just like that, without a second thought. I heard the phone conversations myself. "Don't worry about the money." "You just need to be here so you can get better." "It'll all work out."

Mom continued, "Our family is going to fast for Cristina tomorrow, and we're getting together tonight to start with a family prayer. It would be nice if you all could come. Are you guys doing anything too important?" Afterschool clubs and parties quickly melted away.

That night at Aunt Tera's house, we gathered my mom's side of the family--about 40 people, on a few hours notice. The younger cousins chased each other around the house, creating the usual bedlam of a family party, except without the food. Aunts and uncles deftly completed travel and living arrangements, discussed earlier by phone. Those who didn't have room for houseguests offered to baby-sit or provided money for the plane tickets from Washington, D. C. Then, children were herded back into the main room and silenced as we prepared to begin our fast with a prayer. Though the exact phrases weren't memorable, the spirit in the room was extraordinary. I felt a sense of unity . . . and something else, something that I had been so lacking.

This unselfish act set me thinking. There's more here.

Act V
Something was unfinished. I couldn't sleep.

So I began to walk around the house. I shuffled over the forest green carpet in the basement, dodging the usual clutter: unfinished Lego sculptures, a jumble of video tapes invariably not rewound or put back in the case, torn-out pages from YM and Teen, stacks of paper filled with Heather's drawings and story ideas, Discover card bills, and manila folders. But whatever I was looking for wasn't there.

I walked up the stairs, covered in green also. In the kitchen, dinner dishes remained unwashed because of the usual fight over whose turn it was, with more bills and offical looking papers covering the counter. The refridgerator hummed invitingly, but I didn't exactly feel like a midnight snack. What did I need?

The family room: Dad fallen asleep watching TV on the blue sofa again, after another 12-hour day at the job he hated. In the flickering blue light of the local newscast, Spencer was still avidly watching the results of the Jazz game (he never missed the sports--every night at 9:45). As I look at him, something finally clicks.

Inexplicably, I shuffle over to the couch. I reach over to give him a hug, which he is too tired to resist.

"I love you," I realized, and shuffled back to bed.

Epilogue
It's hard to whittle down a lifetime's worth of pain and love into a single play, with themes and a conclusion, mostly because there isn't a conclusion. Life must keep going and going. People keep getting broken and pieced back together, reshaped, and remade. I'm never quite sure who I am, but I keep acting out the play the best I can because that's the way it has to be.